"commandeer" poems
I just started my new job
As the handyman in the land of OZ
Seems things haven't been going the same
Since the Wizard up and left that day
First off is that house from Kansas
The one that fell on the Witch of the East
There's no way the Munchkins can move it
So we're going to renovate it right there on the side of the street
And turn it into a Bed & Breakfast
Where all the Good Witches can relax and stay
Then they all won't be so apt to
Commandeer a sphere and float away
After that I'll need to buy some silver paint
As the Tin Man is looking rather dull these days
And while I'm at it might as well, some yellow and green
To give the road and OZ a brand new sheen
And since the Witch of the West has been put to rest
I have all the Flying Monkey helpers I can use
As my professional skills will be put to the test
Giving her dingy castle a good ole OZ spruce
I wonder why they've never had someone before
Oh yea, I've also gotta fix that Knocker on the front door
There are so many things that need to be done
Me being the new Handy Man in the land of OZ
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
To hide behind a solid barrier,
to fade into the shadows.
To seek the comfort of the covers,
to crawl through comforting meadows
of stability and repetition-
possessing, overpowering.
A dictator of Life's daily manner-
frightening and towering.
An endless gasp for liberation,
freedom from the rusty shackles-
worn are they from endless grappling,
heartless mirth and hearty cackles.
The words that cluster in the throat
when fear is puppeteer-
the doll that finds no choice at all
but to appease the commandeer
and fade into the dark, ashamed,
of wretched weakening fear.
When will the shackles fall away
their screams,deafening, subside-
the shadows black, so dim, dissolve
and leave no place to hide?
Dictatorship of every move
and word and step and sound,
when will the final song be sang
of Liberty unbound?
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 1:50 PM UTC
I'm an enigma, a quitter and survivor, a pioneer weary of the change that literally defines the career
In desperate need of a savior or at the very least a lucky rabbits foot souvenir
One to keep me free and clear from the type of bad karma that's over the top severe
I've been thinking I don't belong here, I don't know if it's me talking that talk or the fear
I let it take the wheel and steer, my driving advise from the rear seat falls on a deaf ear
I guess I ain't suppose to interfere with the charioteer, the why isn't clear
Now I've gotta kick it into another gear to commandeer my own life like a buccaneer
This deer in headlights nonsense won't get me anywhere near my "new beginnings" frontier
I lost track of my trail guide mountaineer, forgotten about like I'm the fourth musketeer
The sheer volume of every collected tear almost drowns me at least once a year
Or acts like pavement when I smear across it after falling from the atmosphere
My guardian angel is a horrible puppeteer, seems to disappear when needed most like he's the one with crippling fear
...go figure
©2021
Jan 4, 2021
Jan 4, 2021 at 2:05 AM UTC
I hear the trickle of fickle murmurs as they tickle past my ear,
Their intent is ill, but to what extent should I indulge such a thrill?
Fickle tickle, still the clock's tick-tick-tick 'til time stands still,
Leave it all behind me, but never stop lest it catch me in the rear.
I'm here to remind you there's more than just time out there to ****
You strive to stay alive; others die--what's left for them to fear?
They're escaping all the hassle you're then left to commandeer,
So can you really celebrate when there's chaos for you still?
The fickle murmurs of their vocals squirm about my ears,
They tickle--sure--but nothing greater than a trickle 'cross the gills.
All their malice could fill a chalice (but no room for fuss or frills).
So while the dead are free I'll trickle on as a tickle in your ear.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 1:39 AM UTC
Bodies are strewn, one by one, round the room.
All that remains of the casualties here.
All of the victims, perverts and vixens,
Which fell to their instincts, desires and beer.
Recently music had filled air with rhythm,
Masking the retching and ******* the same,
Though rising with sun was the silence, begun
As horizons were setting to flame.
Wading through bodies to go make a drink,
A 6am ***** to freshen the mind.
You scramble and struggle, ignoring the couple
You caught in the kitchen, enjoying a grind.
A smile and a wave, with such sweetness, they gave
And, kindly, they offered some cider.
Approaching the man, you take a warm can
Whilst hoping its not been inside her.
Back to the sofa, a girl has rolled over,
Aeons from sober, you try nudge below her,
Quickly, then slower, with hopes no one knows her,
The types to come over assuming you'll ***** her.
But everything's fine, the coast is all clear.
You soon commandeer, till she falls among beer.
***** turns to smears, but too ****** to hear
Or try interfere, the room sleeps, cohered.
The wait is now on. The coke in your nose
Beginning to burn as you drool on your clothes.
You smoke and you smoke while you cough and you choke,
But it seems with each minute, the time passing slows.
You wack out a notepad, scribble some words,
Draw a few ***** with wings like a bird,
But mostly you sit. Sitting in quiet.
The last one alive in the midst of the riot.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
**Buzzard, eagle, falcon, hawk,
Tiger, cheetah, lion, leopard,
panther, cougar, wild cat
intense all these predators are,
in carnal love and the war for dominance.
Each has characteristic hunting ways,
in day time prowling, plain beasts, they remain,
at sunset , each springs up, party time starts.
Birds of prey in silence watch from above
and find the right target, at a time that suits.
No endearments, in love or in games,
only body speaks of desires or warnings
Swift expression of demand, quick strike,
overpower and make the other surrender.
Throaty growls hurting silence of the forest
double as their sparse love language.
Hunters can never be lovers, their actions speak,
they demand, commandeer, force to surrender.**
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 9:13 AM UTC
She then wears her special smile
an inamorata's conspiratorial
signalling her arousal, need to get me closer
right there in a room full of people
all of us in the midst of serious business.
I have deep yearning in my eyes
that in turn sets fire to her love central
we burn to be in each other's arms
lovers in exile, commandeer private moments
deflecting watchful eyes of jealousy
every time our secret rituals of amour
take unexpected arms and win wars.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
I am a rocketeer
And somewhat of a buccaneer
And I will commandeer
Your heart with mini musketeers
And there is nowhere safe
In my adolescent brain
My life’s like a race
Yo narrow down my breathing
Space
Narrow my breathing space
My breathing space
Narrow my breathing space
And I hope it’s not to late
To make up for all of my mistakes
But I’m set in my ways
Cuz’ life is just mere childsplay
I choose to play this game
And say Jason is my name
And now that I'm awake
I’m gonna need more breathing
Space
Need more breathing space
More breathing space
Need more breathing space
I am a rocketeer
And somewhat of a buccaneer
And I will commandeer
Your heart with mini musketeers
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
You! The happy, hopeless thing!
Touched by effervescent rings.
Aloud for all the world to hear,
My ears are yours to commandeer.
Intent and ripe with lover's lights,
I think I'll stay with you tonight.
In fields but open and unencumbered,
Hold up the sheets and do come under.
Spinning, spinning, life in line,
Remain in place, and just in time.
With stars and skies to stay the night,
Always know this could be right.
May 9, 2011
May 9, 2011 at 1:32 PM UTC
"Harbor away my guilt, oh please.
I'm folding my hands and on my knees,
But if you can't, then through the trees
I go so that I may meet the seas."
"Harbor away my guilt!" I cry.
I fold my hands as body lie
on dampened pillow with dark sky
illuminating its bluish dye.
"Harbor away my guilt!" They hear,
Yet plenty scared to dare come near.
They fear that they may commandeer
The privacy of the man in tears.
"Harbor away my guilt," He wrote.
He put on his suit and then his coat.
He walked through the trees, those saddened oaks,
And became one with the sinking boats...
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 6:14 PM UTC
there is principle, there is mad luck on the streets
but then again, i have neither one.
i assume the idleness of poles underneath the roof of a cafe in Poblacion
and wonder where all my poems go,
the value they impose -- only there's implosion and not so much sense
so i go out to seek tenderly in the night,
a cheap moon trapped underneath the bottle of a pilsner
as i hear one of the patrons call out
my solitude like a ********** on all fours;
one afternoon pursues a following.
i have wasted my time writing and stopping
to watch stray hounds pant and
**** on the hot asphalt of Plaridel.
the papers retch at tyrannies.
hands for mechanisms configured to
a heady bias of probabilities.
the house next to me is being
overhauled and i imagine the incredulity
of things not their own meanings.
a pair of old Chuck Taylors on the bedspread, a decrepit bed for making love
or passing time or wasting the night away.
somewhere, someone is reading my poems and weeping at the cadence.
most do not notice -- it was the caprice of things not mine to commandeer.
the sound of stone masons hammering
boulders double the melancholia.
the deliberate sieving of sand and stone
felt like sandpaper air.
the matutinal sky split into dire condition
much like mine: becoming and unbecoming.
all the ******** are out in the streets
with ladies wuthering in high strides.
all the priests are in their rendezvous,
killing buddha heads.
the police have silenced the sirens
and behind pairs of old navy blue slacks
and mobiles covered with dust,
the captives scream mercy.
all the ATMs drone the pither of metal mouths.
a widow in Bocaue holding a picture
of the departed.
i look up and see my face in the sky:
if only i could **** the man and be the man,
fill his shoes with flesh, his movements my emulation, his enigmas my clarity, his day old denims my best dress.
more than beer and cigarettes have done me in and more to myself much no less
than a cat hit by a speeding bicycle
somewhere in Padre Faura.
madness hurries like a lover and hands me
a picture of the moon.
i've got something and that's good enough
as the police leave the grime of times
and evict drunks off the streets of Malolos,
as the priests step into the showers, naked
and bloodied just like the ordinary man,
as the cat that was hit
by a bicycle
goes back to the dark
licking the salt off the wound,
bone fractured, still alive on the hot roof.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 5:39 AM UTC
My rough past, a lonely gravel path that directed me here
One riddled with loathing and fear from myself and every peer
It all pales in comparison to each and every fallen tear
Added to the unforgiving shame of having tried to check out that one year
It's this reign of pain that stops me in my tracks like headlights freezing a deer
It's clear I don't know how to steer and can not get out of first gear
My entire windshield is a rearview mirror, the next tragedy always closer than they appear
My over corrections and over reactions are too severe, they're starting to break down the veneer
Put in place to simulate normalcy and hide the real me but I'm a horrible engineer
The intentions were sincere but this cavalier attitude never allowed the good in me to adhere
I've given in to my dark passenger allowing it to commandeer the space between each ear
At the time I thought it'd be far messier if I tried too interfere with the puppeteer
So I grabbed a few memories as a souvenir and tried to disappear
©2023
Dec 15, 2023
Dec 15, 2023 at 4:40 PM UTC
The night beasts assault
My mind, digging out
Of my brain, rampaging
Down my spine in fury
To commandeer my hand
And spill on to the page,
Released to the world as
My open-heart bridges,
Beckons them outward,
Afraid to close the gate
And lock them inside.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 6:37 AM UTC
In the dimming light
those shadows start to fall
disintegrating as the sun sets
The scene begins to shift.
There's a guy in a trench coat
he has no pants
There's a woman in a wolf mask
she recently went into a trance
she started writing poetry
she started thinking she could dance
putting on the mask
put her into that trance.
Her husband's in the back
watching ***** movies
thinking he must be the one
but she knows he
doesn't have a chance.
It's why she wears the mask
she'll wake up too late from her trance.
There is a singer on the stage
naked as before
battling that stage fright
he's seeing you in your drawers
every time he starts to sing
a coyote is running around the room
he's always laughing at you
every time you think you're doing fine.
The librarian dressed in scarlet
has a **** story to tell
and you are the star
on
the walk of fame
everybody you say knows your name
while in neon on the avenue
their all laughing
and claiming your shame.
There's a smirking sycophant
begging for a war
no humility
usually means
a shadowed soul
and a tiny ***** to go along.
If you wake up screaming
from a dream
a shadow figure is hidden in your brain
their all screaming your name
go ahead and scream
you'd better
while the old crone
laughs and laughs and laughs.
Better zip it up
put it away
Halloween only comes but once a year
it's then shadows are free to appear
better put away the gear
take off those flowered knickers
all those shadows
they hold all your fears
one of these days
will they commandeer your soul
who knows?
Well you know.
There's no escape
turn on the lights
open the door
open the window
close your eyes
the dawn has come
all shadows will disappear
put on your pants
Walk out the door
pause for a moment
look around
it's all as it was before
that's a big sigh of relief
I've heard it before
I know that sound
it's the sound before
those shadows started to fall. . .
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 10:24 AM UTC
This world was gripped by a puppeteer. He saw us all but deemed me our William Shakespeare. I was the poet, the world had to blow it. I was the artist, they weren't the smartest. I was the dreamer, they weren't believers, and I was the inventor, now they're no longer in the center.
The world was gripped by a puppeteer, but he looked at me and deemed me his sightseer. I was the psychic, the rest of the world had gone a little seismic. I was the vision, they couldn't come to a decision. I was the future, they needed some sutures and I was the wise one, but oh this world's a loaded gun.
The world was gripped by a puppeteer. He was their commandeer. He ordered the world to drown in flames, but they thought he was just playing games. Then he pulled his invisible strings, and from his chessboard began pulling corrupted kings.
Gold and silver rained upon the world, and blood and bones piled in the underworld. The little children just up and curled, and the madness hidden in the world began to just unfurl.
Gray skies couldn't hide the lies, broken kingdoms fell to the flies. The puppeteer had gripped the world, and oh how their sanity just twirled, oh, welcome to the new world. The world was gripped by a puppeteer, now all the baddies have to disappear.
Save us all, oh save us all. That's exactly what you'll do, my dear little puppeteer. 'Cuz as long as I'm pulling the strings, you'll always be doomed to stay here.
Save us all, oh save us all. That's exactly what I'll do, my dear little puppet. Oh it's gonna be you, you'll save us from the corrupted, but it's really me.
It'll be me, I'll be the one to save us all. I'm the real key, you're all under my thrall. 'Cuz as long I'm here, I'm pulling the strings. My little puppeteer, oh it's me, I'm the king of kings.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 9:28 AM UTC
Like the unstoppable roach, you cannot approach
Me with nuclear war, the bomb might be enough
To destroy mankind and commandeer an unclear mind
Its just that I became immune to the fallout, I created the antidote
It took time and i'm always perfecting the potion
Every war has a way of spreading a new emotion
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
Jealousy.
I don’t like to say the word.
I dislike the shape of her.
The way she dips and curves—
she ends on a self-assured slant
as if to imply that you’ll be back for more.
Nothing sweet to offset her bitter bite
as her slimy saltiness rolls over your tongue.
She seeps into each and every open crevice.
To resist her is useless—
she’s designed to commandeer.
Your mouth will only produce words
soaked with her disdain.
It's no secret you're at her mercy
as you watch another’s fingers
run through his hair.
If you have teeth, grit them.
If you have fists, clench them.
Narrow your gaze until
her green vines uncoil and twist through
your arms, your legs.
A cartographer crafting
a brand new map of veins
pumping something stronger than blood.
Your misery is her victory,
and she makes no promise
to quiet her celebration.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
Sometimes I don't understand how people string sentences together
In a room full of crowded people, all eyes upon them.
I can only gaze in wonder as they speak,
oozing a certain confidence that I don't possess.
People that have the ability to commandeer a classroom, a captain.
Whilst I stay below deck, hands shaking at the thought of speaking next.
Smart doesn't always mean confident, what I put on paper doesn't translate well when I try to explain things out loud.
Daunting steps to the front of a room, all eyes upon me, strikes fear in me
My arms are lead, notes ready to fall from my hands
The hum of chatter a constant reminder that I am no captain.
I won't ever commandeer a classroom through speech
I can only hope that one day I'll be able to take that walk without my heart pounding a constant rhythm against my chest.
Without feeling like I'm about to have a noose put around my neck.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
In college, I had a friend that we called 'dad'
Because he made awful jokes and puns
And he herded us wild things
But whenever we came back
From holidays you could expect
That all of your knickknacks
were on your bed artfully arranged
And when you were down
He would commandeer
My roommate's horse puppet
(Yeah, you read right, she had a horse puppet)
And do voices and 'bite' you
Until you complied
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 12:10 AM UTC
On soft paws she
comes dancing like a
slip of
silken air
to pad about the room
feigning innocence.
Then,
quick as the wisp she blew in on,
drops her guileless disguise
in haste
to do battle with the socks
and commandeer
the newspaper fleet scattered
on the floor.
But,
in a flash
the crusade
she won
is forgotten.
because she's found a hoard
of spoils and treasure.
Among the
warm golden spills the battle claimed
on the windowsill,
she lounges,
and rumbles her tiny
lion voice,
surveying her conquered Kingdom.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
Yeah, fearless, now watch me clear this obsession, that others keep stressing on, watching people keep wasting their lives over precious things as if they themselves have become like Gollum mon. But I digress, this is my mission, this my vision to run this dominion. I am fearless, devil can you hear it, I have overcome you're torment, I no longer fear **** God oh the father up in heaven, It still looks like I aint one you're disciplinary brethren. This is my goal, mother ****** I am on a roll, can't decide which way to go. Classy so sassy, jumping over all you spazz's because you are all too drastic and dramatic. I am the fanatic that don't panic over first world problems, because ever problem can be solved, given time, I'm sure I will never again hit rock bottom. Fearless, so careless to the things that used to bother me, but nothing impedes me now that I got my masters degree. Going off you melon tops, you think I would give up when I got my friends for backup. So I haven't always been this way, but this is the way I rock today. I can only move forward, to tomorrow, can't look back at all my sorrow. Different me, so I think a lot differently, starting to build up my lyrical ministry. Fearless you can't commandeer this vessel that is so special, that would be dreadful, so unethical to this human that is so gentle. Just a gentile that has over come his shackles, so gnomonical of all these obstacles I tackled. No more skipping over the point with the story of the birds and the bee's, because we finally have the keys to get off of our knees. To fearful are some, no fear for this one, because nothing can no longer have me outdone. Fearless can you comprehend how clear this is, but a lot of you are still to blind to see that fear is your nemesis. Why can't everything be good like in the book of genesis, I'll tell you why, because this generation has gone to **** that is most definite. Some of you won't admit, but to be completely honest I don't really give two ***** No more fear holding me back from being in a relationship, I have become smart as a chip, blasting out here like I'm a rocket ship.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC
When was the last time I called the city’s bluff?
Can my vocal fry irritate the day-tripping crowds
And commandeer the cherry blossoms?
Can someone’s bitter-power slow solid-district architecture to a daydream,
where buildings sense the age of dust and kneel down in respect
like the postcards in the airport remember-
not our hot, sticky, fast Manhattan miles
which endure so little once the seal has broken and the sunburn has peeled?
Wandering past mystery, across novelty,
always with a book in hand and always through sunglasses;
like they’re expecting the boredom,
like they weren’t just two blocks away laughing and sobbing
in after-hours, foggy jazz highs
where they let their denim hips disintegrate in circles
and drip onto the floor before
crumpling downward from the neck
because no one listens
and because
everyone understands.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
It's not, at all, that I'm afraid of technology!
It's that - I fear that thee elites'll commandeer
- and in turn decide what, all, is mythology;
- they're cruel and've had their status for years.
With their satellites & their drones in the skies,
- and their nosy, little devices in all o' our pockets:
- on everything each of us do, they have eyes.
They could **** each one of us with their rockets;
- that's an incredible trust to, fully, put in
- the evil ones who have proven themselves..
Who will, and has, killed our elders and kin.
Who will, so easily, put us up on their shelves
- in the ole' books of the people that they've killed
- themselves.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 3:28 AM UTC
If by way of water I could see you where you sit
I'd take hold of the oars and commandeer a ship
if upon the open air I could hear the tears you cry
I'd leave the earth behind just to seek you in the sky
if beneath the mantle, your love had gone and died
I'd dare to delve the center and open you up wide
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 4:39 PM UTC